Stitches in Time by Barbara Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

kitchen wasn’t as formal as the front part of the house; the warm red-brown tiles and the bright print of the curtains formed a cheerful contrast to the dead garden visible through the wide bay window. The table in the curve of the bay was set with woven mats, and at the moment its surface was comfortably cluttered with pottery mugs and dishes, a plate of doughnuts, magazines and papers. Rachel was starting to relax when she saw the woman who was sitting at the table, and felt herself freeze up again.
    She was the daintiest of little ladies, exquisitely groomed and looking much younger than her probable age. The Chanel suit of soft blue matched her eyes and set off her porcelain skin and snowy hair; the outfit would have been more appropriate for a Junior League luncheon than a casual kitchen coffee klatch. When she saw Rachel she jumped up with a cry of sympathy.
    â€œYou poor girl! What happened?”
    Rachel knew who she was even before Kara introduced them. Kara had often spoken of her Aunt Ruth, who had mothered her and encouraged her and helped her start her business. The house had once belonged to Ruth; she and her husband, a professor at a local university, now lived in the country.
    She fussed over Rachel as Cheryl would have done, settling her in a chair, folding ice cubes in a towel and holding it against Rachel’s bruised cheek. Kindness and sympathy had a demoralizing effect; Rachel felt tears come to her eyes.
    She didn’t want to show signs of weakness, so she fought back the tears and concentrated on producing a coherent story. Kara had obviously heard about the bag of quilts and the man who had left it; she nodded impatiently but didn’t interrupt, since it was news to Ruth, who kept letting out little gasps of distress. Kara’s interest revived when Rachel described what had happened the previous night.
    â€œIt was the same man?” she asked.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œYou were very brave,” Ruth exclaimed. “I would have cowered under the covers and pretended I was asleep.”
    Kara’s face softened. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d have chased him, brandishing the flashlight.”
    â€œI hope I’d have had better sense,” Ruth said indignantly. Then she gave Rachel an apologetic smile. “That wasn’t meant as criticism. You didn’t really chase him, did you?”
    â€œI don’t know what, if anything, I had in mind,” Rachel admitted, with an answering smile. “It was sheer reflex—sheer terror, probably. You feel so helpless—you are helpless!—when you’re lying down. I jumped up, yelling and waving the flashlight. He must have assumed I was asleepuntil the light hit him in the face, and it startled him so that he turned and ran. No, I wouldn’t have chased him; I just wanted to slam the door and shove the furniture up against it. I miscalculated—ran smack into the edge of the door and almost knocked myself out. I managed to close and lock it, though.”
    â€œYou called the police, of course.” Kara reached for a doughnut and bit into it. Powdered sugar sifted down onto her chest.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œYou told them the whole story?”
    â€œCertainly.”
    â€œDon’t be so defensive,” Kara said mildly. “Have a doughnut.”
    She pushed the plate toward Rachel, who realized she was starved. No breakfast, only a few hours’ sleep, and a headache the size of Mount Everest…She ate the doughnut, while Kara thought aloud.
    â€œIt’s the bag he wants, obviously. He must have mistaken the one you took home for the one he abandoned. You didn’t notice anyone following you?” She answered her own question before Rachel, her mouth full of doughnut, could do so. “No, why should you? Heavy traffic, dark, you were anxious to get home. You live alone?”
    Rachel explained. Ruth said in a worried voice, “She can’t go back